Poison
by Lonessa
Summary: Trust is a fragile aspect of life, held together by frail bonds between the living. Her trust was shattered by the people she had been told would save her, and now walks alone, spiraling down into insanity as she wanders across a dead land. Distrusting and skitterish, will this wounded soul ever find herself again? How can she heal when she runs from both the living and the dead?
1. The Voices in my Head

**Hello there! Lonessa here. I've wanted to create an account for so long and now I finally decided to sit down and make one, so here I am! I'm still fairly new to the site, so I'll be exploring all of the different things I can do here, but here it is, my very first story! I hope some of you guys enjoy it, since I myself had a blast writing this, and if not, that's okay. Tell me what I can work on so I can be better next time in capturing your interest!**

 **Also, as long as the comment isn't... well, _rude_ let's just say, I give all of you full permission to rip my story to PIECES. I'm not joking, you see something wrong with it or something you don't like or understand, tell me. I won't shy away from some friendly advice and pointers. I mean, I have to deal with my crazy English teacher every day, and I'm pretty sure she hounds me just so I can cry while writing essays at ten o'clock at night... hehehe, speaking of which I kinda have an essay to do and I did this instead. Oopsies?**

 **Enough of me yammering, enjoy the chapter!**

/~~~\\\

 _Breathe in...breathe out...breathe in…breathe out…_

Shattered glass blinked up at me, redness seeping onto the pretty shards as the evil things morphed my face, made it look like I was a monster. The glass had the nerve to use the sun to blind me, the closest thing it could simulate to a wink.

 _Breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...breathe out…_

I heard groans, but my dark, dark eyes wouldn't leave the pretty, pretty glass.

 _Breathe…_

I smashed the glass with the heel of my boot.

 _In…_

A rush of air flying by me gave me the sweet scent of spilled blood, tangy, and I felt the phantom taste of copper in my mouth. I felt myself sigh, but the action was all but soothing to my lungs. My mouth began to water.

 _Breathe…_

A crash. My grey, empty eyes flicked up. A dead one looked back at me.

 _Out…_

It growled. I chuckled. Lifted my pistol. One shot had its stupid face in pieces, a disheartened hiss escaping the extra-dead woman as she fell to the ground, the beady yellow light of her dead eyes snuffed out again. Stupid little monster. You can't get me. I'll never be a monster like you.

 _Breathe in…_

I ran my hand through my ebony locks, smiling when I felt the fingers run through smoothly, frowning when my rings snagged on a piece of hair. Bad. Don't be like that, silly.

 _Breathe out…_

I wanted to giggle madly when I brought a chunk of hair around, letting my eyes see the beautiful, bright red soaking the ends of my hair, creeping to halfway up its length. I'll be sad when the dye washes away…

 _Breathe. Breathe_.

 _Cassi._

 _SHUT UP!_

I shot the stupid corpse again. Again, again, again. Stupid stupid stupid… keep quiet about Cassi.

 _Why don't you?_

I do. You don't. Leave me be before you make Venus appear again. I wanna be alone.

 _You want to be a monster._

"No I DON'T!" A feral growl, one that I couldn't even recognize as mine escaped from my lips, cutting the stale air of Georgia. Stupid state, way to hot here…

 _Then why are you acting like this? Why push Venus out when all you want to do is–_

"Stop talking…" I whimpered, scuffing my black boot on the concrete. The voice quieted, and I felt the world come back to me, zooming in and taking shape, chasing away the dark little place that I was in before. Hello world, remember me? I remember you.

I toyed with the black lace at the ends of my slip dress, skipping around the town. I felt my ponytail swinging with my movements, high on my head, and I grinned happily. I have absolutely no clue where I am, but I don't particularly care. The map CEDA had so nicely gave me a few weeks ago was only good for the town I had abandoned a long time ago, so it was ditched a week back with some other non-essentials.

I loved the weight of all my supplies on my back, the reassurance it gave me was more than one would expect. Strapped to my back is a lovely black backpack with a red rose etched in the center, a hunting rifle secured to the right of the pack, and a shiny new tactical shotgun on the left. I had yet to carve the word _Rose_ into the shotgun, but when I find another one of those big red door thingies I'll get to doing that.

I huffed a sigh when I looked around the sunny road, dead people and huge blood stains smiling back at me. This place was getting kinda stale... maybe I should move on. My motorcycle was back at the front of the mall, where a lot of baddies were loitering since it used to be one of those CEDA checkpoints for evacuation - what assholes, lying like that, it wasn't very nice - and it would be a chore trying to move around that stupid tanker whose driver decided to be an idiot and block the way with. Having your window shattered by an undead missing half its jaw was in no way a good excuse to crash a damn truck. I had yelled just punch it in the face and keep driving, but he wouldn't listen. Maybe he didn't listen because he was screaming in terror too loud. Pfft, what a baby.

One less coward in the world.

Anyway, I guess I had no choice, so I might as well see if I can climb over the damn thing.

I kept to the highgrounds, playfully taunting the confused dead ones as I lazily fired a few shots from my Magnum at them. I didn't like the thing very much. Yeah, it did have a very satisfying BAM when I pulled the trigger, but it couldn't compare to the black and red hunting rifle or the shiny shotgun on my back. I'd probably ditch it later, after I used up all the bullets. Or, y'know, hand it off to the first person that doesn't try to fuck me over. Like that'll ever happen. It'd probably be safer to just cram this silver barrel down their convulsing throat and ending their misery when I find them, since their stupidness will kill them eventually.

 _Now that isn't the best way to go at things._

"I don't care~" I sang to the air, causing a few dead ones to turn to me. I frowned, "What? Got a problem with my singing?"

Then, POW POW POW! I heard gunshots, and so did the dead ones. They ran underneath the little bridge I was currently standing on, lunging for the people that were very, _very_ close to me.

I didn't like that.

I stepped exaggeratedly to the other side of the bridge, kicking my legs out before slamming my feet back to the ground, stopping and lolling my head over the side to see that a door had been broken down, and four living people were running down some steps, utterly terrified, if I could read the looks on their faces right. Out front stood a bald black man that had a purple and yellow shirt with a small label that I couldn't read, and white pants. The next that ran out the door had black hair that was slicked back from his face, and a firm scowl was fixed on his face. He looked rather formal, since he was wearing a white suit with a blue collared shirt, it being slightly bloodied. It didn't look like his blood though. I silently applauded him on that.

The third was a short black woman, looking to be around my height, though she was probably taller by an inch or so. Her black braids were pulled into a ponytail, and she wore a pink short sleeved shirt with the picture of some band I didn't bother to recall. She looked rather pretty, with her big brown doe eyes and makeup still not rubbed away from her eyes.

The last was what I thought dressed like a mechanic, with a greasy yellow shirt and curly black hair hidden under a ball cap. I couldn't see his eyes from this angle. He was the dirtiest out of the bunch, with grease stains on his muscular arms and face, and a small blood splatter on the knee of his blue overalls. He looked like he was...smiling. He had a cute smile.

They moved as a unit down the street, passing under my bridge without a glance up. I followed, moving to the other side and watching as the suit began unknowingly backing up straight into a witch while shooting at some of the undead.

She wasn't perturbed as of yet, merely cradling her face in her hands as she rocked back and forth, and I giggled silently, madly. Then the suit made a snide comment towards the girl that I said was kind looking. I scowled, _that wasn't nice of you_.

"You… are better off dead," I concluded, convinced that the mean one was going to fall by my sniper shot. I swung it off my shoulder, running my hand along the barrel lovingly before cradling it in the crook of my shoulder while bringing the sight to my eyes. Hello there, suit guy. I'm your killer.

I centered it, the small reticule resting right on suit guy's forehead, and I grinned maliciously. Curling my finger around the trigger, I could already hear the wondrous bang of the rifle, the wet plop of another dead one, and I could visualize my survival odds upping–

"Stop!"

I blinked. No. NO!

"Go. Away. Cassiopeia," I growled. I didn't wanna, I didn't wanna–

I did.

I saw the softness of her gorgeous ice blue eyes, the choppy ebony hair that curled around her face. The panic in her posture as she reached a hand out in blind terror, the baby blue hoodie wrapping her snugly in a warm embrace.

"Hi Cassi."

"Hi," Cassiopeia said just as breathlessly, but for a different reason, "Please don't kill that man. Please."

I scowled, my vision contorting, time freezing as the world bled into grey. Stupid grey, "Why not? I don't know him, he could be bad."

"His death would still be on your hands," She swayed on her feet, her black flowy skirt blowing gently in the wind. I nearly cracked a grin at those little blue flats with the bows she still had on her feet. Cassiopeia. So innocent. So pure.

So not me. Not anymore.

"Other deaths are on my hands," I mentioned with a flick of the wrist, knee still bent to touch the ground, sniper still propped on the concrete barrier, finger still ready to make a single twitch, to let the gun fire.

"That's bad enough as it is," She breathed, pulling the hoodie around her tighter, "Those soldiers… you shouldn't have done that. You would've been safe."

"They would've killed me."

"No they wouldn't have. I saw the other path. You know I did. They didn't kill you if you took the other path."

"They deserved it."

"Well guess what sister?!" She suddenly roared, her gentle, innocent eyes turning angry and harsh as she pitched her torso forward, "I'M STILL DEAD!"

My breath caught in my throat. When she talked like this, I couldn't tell if she was actually visiting, or if I was just recreating her. Actually, I honestly didn't know at all, let alone when Cassi got passionate. Swallowing, I replied, shakily, "And I killed those responsible."

"That didn't make it better, sis!" Cassiopeia looked sad now, tears running down her cheeks, "I didn't want you to become this way because of me…"

"Not because of you, Cassi. Because of them. They killed you. They broke me in doing so."

"Then unbreak! _Please_!"

"It's not that easy," I said coldly, glaring at her now. It's not fair. I couldn't move to Cassi, or else the illusion would be broken, and she would be gone. The world would be back, less bright, less happy. No more Cassi.

"I didn't say it would be easy," Cassiopeia shot back, crossing her arms.

"Just find me."

The illusion didn't look stunned at the other voice. I was. I turned slowly.

"Vega…?"

"Find me, sis," Calm blue eyes, similar to Cassi's, stared down at me. Chocolate brown hair dipped down into her face, shielding her right eye from view. She wore the same clothing in which I last saw her, just like Cassiopeia. A hot pink camisole, denim jacket thrown over it with sleeves rolled up the the elbows and the middle button buttoned. Skinny jeans with stars stitched on, tucked into black ankle boots with pink soles.

"How?"

"How should I know?" Vega rolled her eyes, "I'm just an illusion made by your mind, remember?"

A grin cracked across my lips. Vega always could crack the obvious and make it funny. That's just how she was. Is. She's still alive, just...gone. Not here.

"Yeah? Well can I get at least a suggestion? Or direction?"

"Well, I'll tell ya this much," Vega took a step forward, and I wanted to beg her to come closer, just to touch her, hug her, but I didn't. That may shatter the illusion, "Killing Colonel Sanders down there isn't going to help."

My breath caught again. Cassiopeia stepped up beside Vega, nodding in agreement. I growled. Vega and Cassiopeia together were an unstoppable force. Well… at least against me they are. were. _Fuck_.

Damn their puppy eyes.

"Alright. I-...I won't."

Cassi looked happy, then worried, "One other thing, sis?"

I sighed, knowing that whatever it is she would ask, I wouldn't be able to say no to, "What do you want, Cassi?"

"Please save him."

The world rushed back, Vega and Cassiopeia rushing away and flickering in the wind, disappearing behind the doorway I would soon be using. I didn't bother to give chase. I tried to before, many times. They were never there.

But...save him? Why the hell did I have to save some asshole I don't even know? Cassi wanted me to though… _dammit Cassi!_

I heard the witch let loose a guttural cry, and I whipped my head around, already searching for her in the scope. I saw the glowing red eyes in a matter of seconds, and I felt rage build up in me. _Fuck this bitch, fuck this virus, or whatever the hell it is_. Just _fuck it_.

I barely took notice of the suit scrambling backwards and landing on his behind, trying to get his gun up but having the bitch smack it away with her talons. Fucking. Bitch.

I _was_ curious as to how she would go about gutting a kill though.

 _Sis, please!_

Dammit. Get out of my head, Cassi, I won't let the guy die. Don't you trust me?

 _Not when you're out of your mind like this._

Oh? Well get used to it, Cassiopeia Rose, because I ain't getting back on track anytime soon.

The whisper of Cassi vanished, and I tuned back into the world as the bitch began to raise her talons, mouth stretched into a grotesque smile as she readied to slash at the suit guy. He tried to kick at her bony legs, but those dead girls were tougher than they looked.

That's why I wasn't to happy in unloading a round in her head when it wouldn't even fucking kill her right away.

BAM!

The survivors below me let out yelps of shock, but I kept my focus on the staggering undead. Elegant black blood streamed down her face, making a glistening, pretty waterfall. If only I could take a picture…

BAM!

Oh well.

My lips curled into a smile as she fell to the ground, whimpering in those annoying high pitched shrieks. Seriously, how do the other special infected manage to _not_ pound her face in? It's such a grating noise!

BAM!

Aaand dead. Happy Cassi? I sure hope so, because that was so not worth my bullets.

I stood to my full height, which I'll admit, is a rather unimpressive 5'5''. I decided to leap on top of the concrete barrier, looking down at the four gaping survivors with my sniper rifle cradled professionally in my arms. I might as well let them get a good look at me before I split, since they probably got the gist by now that I was not to be screwed with.

Oh yeah. Sending warnings in the apocalypse.

 _Dear lord, sis. You keep thinking like this, and you're doomed before you get within a hundred mile radius of me._

Shut up, Vee.

 **/~~~\\\**

"What the hell was– who the hell is–"

"Nick. Shut up," Coach growled with a tense posture, gripping his shotgun tightly. Ellis squinted up at the figure on the overpass, jaw dropping at the sight.

She almost looked like one of those strong heroine's in the movies. Black and red hair in a ponytail, billowing in the wind as she stared down at them with a serious look. No smile, no indication of emotion. A huge rifle in her hands, looking almost comical with the comparison of her own size. Black boots with no heel that reached her mid-thigh, dark red pantyhose and a short black dress with spaghetti straps and a foot of lace at the ends. A red rose was detailed at the bottom right of the dress, and he spied a backpack peeking out from behind her, along with _another_ gun. A black belt with huge pouches was resting on her hips, a magnum in a holster on her hip. Lastly, a large strap that rested on her left shoulder and ended up looping back around her back at her stomach held a few vials containing Boomer Bile, along with one unlit molotov.

This girl looked ready to face a _nuclear explosion_.

"Uh, hello up there! We aren't a threat to y'all, just passing through!" Coach called up, letting no nervousness seep into his voice. Ellis had to commend the burly man for that, since he was shaking in his boots by merely taking a _glance_ at the girl.

"I'm well aware."

Her voice had a soft lit to it, a slight British accent seeping through as she cleared her throat softly. Her voice didn't invoke the same fear her appearance did. They completely contradicted each other. Suddenly processing her response, Ellis blinked. She's well aware?

"Is she well aware of the passing through part or the not a threat part?" He asked lowly to the others, seeing Rochelle look at him with wide eyes and shrug helplessly, keeping herself planted in front of Nick, who has yet to stand.

"Both."

Ellis nearly jumped out of his skin. She _heard_ him?

"Well… seeing as you seem to know what you're doing… would you like to join–"

"Goodbye," She cut Coach off with a simple word, swinging the rifle so it rested on her back and slipping the magnum from its holster, holding it in front of her casually as she sauntered to the right, balancing perfectly on the narrow barrier, before jumping back onto the bridge and pushing open what Ellis assumed to be a door.

"Hey wait! Maybe we can help each other!" Ellis yelled up, and for a moment she paused.

Only for a moment though, because in the next second, the door slammed shut.


	2. No Company Needed

**Welcome back! Before I say anything, I want to say that, in case you haven't picked up on it, the mysterious survivor doesn't exactly have the most healthy mental health at the moment. Then again, who would be during an apocalypse, am I right? With that being said, it may be hard to relate to her at the moment, but I _will_ delve into her past with more detail, just not in this chapter. I have a vague outline of this in my brain, so I can assure you that you'll know more about our nameless heroine before the story reaches double digits in chapters.**

 **That being said, I don't own Left 4 Dead...sadly. I only own my OFC, who shall remain nameless for the time being. ;)**

 **Without further ado, enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?!"

"Many things, as you've liked to mention before."

"They were going to _offer_ you help! No strings! That mechanic actually _did_ offer for you to tag along—"

"I don't need their help," I barked, trying to tune out Vega's pestering. She sure did try hard to be the leader of our little trio, but eldest _always_ led.

"Yes you do!" The brunette insisted, and I absolutely refused to stop walking, "You've been giggling to yourself for the past week whenever you make a zombie spew blood, and your thoughts are slowly reverting to a third grade level."

I froze. I turned, gave her the iciest glare I ever mustered. The illusion didn't flinch.

"Trust me sis, I've been in that brain of yours. It's starting to get real bad, real fast."

"Y'know what? Just go back to wherever you are, Vega," I snarled, hating the way my voice always softened the words I spit. Damn accent, "Live it up with the twats that killed Cassiopeia, your own blood, while I do all the heavy lifting out here! So _what_ it's getting a little dusty? I don't give a toss!"

"That's not fair!" Cassi appeared beside Vega, "The only reason Vega knows I died by CEDA is because she's in your head! The real Vega doesn't know where the hell you even are!"

I blinked. The _real_ Vega. Well, that went into four levels of _oh right I'm an idiot._ You see, you start to lose your mind, you forget some things.

"Yeah you do, and you need someone to _watch your back_."

And Illusion Vega can just read my mind while she's at it.

"This is serious!"

Oh, Cassi is hopping aboard the mind game train.

"Ugh, that's it!" Vega threw her arms up, stomping her booted feet with frustration, "Y'know what sis? Just get to your bloody motorcycle. Maybe you'll gain some of your sanity back on the way."

"Yeah, I'll do that," I rolled my eyes, watching as Vega faded away with a huff. Cassiopeia looked at me, extending a hand almost as if she wanted to give me a hug… or something.

If she did, I'd be really happy.

"I'm sorry, sis," Cassi deflated, her ice blue eyes shining, and I expected tears to fall again. Surprisingly enough, they didn't.

Cassiopeia faded, and I didn't get my hug, but I expected as much. Only so much a phantom in your mind can do, after all.

I whipped around, stomping away and towards that gun shop I'll need to pass through to get to the mall. Hopefully I can get there before the quartet of idiots make their way to the 'evac center'. Not like there ever was one.

I took the steps two at a time, my magnum popping off twice as two of the undead fell into bloody heaps. One of my bullets went through and shattered the window of the shop, and I watched as the glittery, pretty glass began to fall–

 _Sis stop! Focus!_

I growled. Alright alright, I won't take in the sight, Cassiopeia.

 _If you changed your mind in joining the survivors, well, they're coming down the stairs right now._

I didn't, but thanks for letting me know, Vega.

Casually, I sauntered behind the concrete wall and peeked around, watching the stairs with slight interest. Just as Vega said, the big black man barreled down first, shotgun primed and ready, closely followed by the rest in a single file line, exact same order. How easy it would be to get one of those kill streaks with one bullet. What would it be called? A Killtacular? I haven't played _Halo_ 's multiplayer mode in such a long time.

 _You won't be killing any of them, sis_.

Fine. You're no fun.

 _Actually, you're going to help them_.

Uh, no I'm not. That's a laugh for you to even try and suggest Cassi.

 _I'm serious! You've helped them once before, why not again?_

Because they already owe me. I don't do any more favors until I get my payment.

 _Their payment was an offer to help, but y'know…_

Shut up, Vee. Fine Cassi, I know you won't let up on this. I'll tail them but only if they follow my own path. If they do something I don't like, I'm gone.

 _Thank you, sis. I really appreciate it._

Yeah yeah. Sometimes I wonder how I got such a bleeding heart for a sister. Two bleeding hearts, actually.

 _You used to be one too._

That was before CEDA. Before Cassi died. But the real you probably doesn't know that Vega, so you're still in la la land in the real world.

… _you're not wrong._

Yeah, I know I'm right. I'm the oldest.

 _Well that was just rude. And you're only older by like, one minute. Twins, remember sis?_

Ignoring Vega's jab, I peeked around to see the mechanic guy shut the gun shop door. _Oh, just perfect_.

 _Is it perfect?_

No Cassi. That was sarcasm. Thank you for making me have to explain the tone of my voice. Thoughts. Grr, _toss_.

 _No need to be so brash about it_.

Ignoring you, Vega.

The illusions blew away in the wind as I straightened and walked right through them, eyes set on the door. Should I walk in, or should I climb up to the top of the building?

…Top. Less of a chance I'll be shot then.

 _They won't shoot you._

And you know that how?

 _I'm dead, remember?_

Whatever. You're not really the dead Cassiopeia Rose. You're just a part of my mind that's trying to talk to me. Silly brain.

Holstering my magnum, I took a running start of the wall before pushing off and gripping the shingled roof. Bracing my feet on the wall, I clambered up, fingers slipping across the rusty metal roof and even a few shingles falling off and clattering loudly to the ground.

" _What the hell was that?_ "

That sounded like suit guy. He sounded like a really unpleasant person. Why did I listen to Cassiopeia again?

" _Relax Nick. Probably some of the tiles falling off. Ellis, Ro, get ready."_

So the suit guy's name is Nick. And the second voice sounded like the black man that tried to convince me in joining. That would mean Ellis is the mechanic guy, and Ro is the nice lady.

" _On it Coach_."

And the black guy was Coach. Okay, got it.

Standing shakily, I silently padded to the tower-like structure and braced myself for a short climb. Thank goodness it was _short_ , considering I wasn't the billy goat of the family. That was Vega's job description.

 _I wouldn't say it's a job. Just a skill._

Yeah yeah, whatever.

Anyway, I somehow managed to climb up a few feet and pull myself over onto a wooden outcropping. It looked like it was about to fall apart, but it didn't even creak when my weight was added to it, so I suppose it was fine.

I crept around until I could see the entirety of the parking lot, that enormous tanker still in the damn way. Maybe I could hop up on the wall and run across?

" _You get me some cola, and I'll clear th' path to th' mall for ya._ "

…did I just hear that right?

There's a guy in the tower that I'm standing beside… and he wants fucking _cola_ in a _zombie apocalypse?!_

 _He may be just as nuts as you, sis._

Shut up, Vega!

As much as I really wanted to put a bullet in this guy's skull, I held back, seeing the quartet make their way to the grocery store to the left of the tanker. Are they seriously going to—

Ellis ran into the store, the alarm piercing the air. Yup, they seriously did.

I heard screeches from the undead bounce around me, and I felt my head go all dizzy. Calm, calm, they can't get you up here.

 _Smokers can_.

Not helping me Vega.

 _I'm just making sure you know there's still danger._

I'm well aware. Now stop talking to me unless you want to make an actual appearance, 'Kay?

Vega went silent, and I felt the dizziness ebb away just in time. I huffed at the floods of undead running forward, and hit my head in my hand. There was _no way_ that I could be much of help with my little sniper against a horde that big.

 _Then use the Boomer Bile! Please sis, just–_

Same rule goes for you too, Cassi. Don't worry, I won't let them die.

Yanking two of the vials from the strap hanging from my shoulder, I hurled them towards the tanker, the green content oozing out and a noxious green glass spewing from the shattered glass. Most of the dead forgot all about the four meals at the shop, moving in favor of the Bile and proceeding to beat the shit out of each other. Dummies.

I began shooting at the undead, keeping a vague awareness of where the four survivors were. I ignored their odd looks toward me, ignored the hesitant steps, and merely focused on the steady pulses of the rifle as it jarred against my shoulder, the kickback familiar, unchanging, soothing.

 _It's dissipating! They need more time!_

Cool it, Cassi. I know what I'm doing.

I pulled the last vial of bile out, juggling it a bit in my hand. I waited until the four survivors made it past the tanker, waited until they were up the small slope, and I threw it. The green substance spewed out in a disgusting green sludge behind them, more green gas wafting up into the air. As the dead rushed to the intoxicating smell, I pulled the only molotov from my strap, slinging my rifle onto my back and pulling a black lighter from one of the pouches on my belt. A golden outline of a rose decorated it, and I flipped the top open and sparked a small flame, holding it up to the doused rag.

Not a second after the rag was lit, I chucked it right at the same spot the vial had broken open, seeing the flames eat up the bile and use it as a spreading source. The tequila from inside the bottle washed across the pavement, flames licking after it, and soon enough, the fire roasted the undead still running towards the bile.

The sizzling of flesh calmed me, which probably would have been a bad thing if I really thought about it. I refused to acknowledge that fact though. In a world like this, I needed any calmness that I could find, questionable or not.

" _Put the cola in tha damn slot!_ "

My eye twitched. Not. Nice.

 _Sis…_

Vega and Cassiopeia whispered at the same time in my mind, and it felt like needles were being jammed into my eyes. All the sudden the burning of the undead wasn't as calming as it was before, and it left me bothered, skin itching on the inside, and I resisted the urge to scrape off the pale flesh with my nails.

I heard three of the survivors calling for me, looking for me, and I shrunk back, behind the tower and out of plain view. I peeked around, seeing different ranges of concern on the survivors faces. The suit, Nick, merely looked annoyed.

"Look, the girl isn't coming out, and I'd prefer it if we _didn't_ have a lonely teenager with a big goddamn gun at our backs, so let's just keep moving!"

I had to give him some credit. If I were in his shoes, I probably would be thinking along the same lines. The others had different ideas.

"She's just a girl, Nick. She's probably scared out of her mind!" The nice lady, Ro I believe, chided. Ro had to be short for something, like a nickname.

"Well...if she won't come out, we can't really do much," The purple and yellow shirt, Coach, said after a moment, head hung low. Why does he look so disappointed? He doesn't know me!

 _He cares for another human being, sis. Is that so unusual?_

These days it is.

 _Sis...this isn't going to end well if you keep running off on your own._

Cassiopeia, stop. I'm not going down there, I'm not talking to them. Just...just stop.

 _...you'll be surprised if you do talk to them._

These days? Surprises aren't a good thing.

 _But this one is._

Go and talk to Vega. I'm not going down there.

Blissful silence overtook my mind again, and I noticed with relief that the four were heading toward the now torn apart tanker. Holy crap, how did I miss that?! I really wish I didn't. I could just imagine it, the shell cracking in a matter of a second, flames licking and billowing out at the ground and the foliage, a deafening _boom_ erupting from the contact of metal on flammables. Debris flying, streaking the air with a dazzling orange. Beautiful.

The illusion I created shattered as the window I had leant next to burst open, a weathered old man with a large hat shielding his face from the sun. Stubble sprinkled across his chin, a gleam in his hazel eyes. A pistol was clenched in his hand, but the grip relaxed when he saw me.

"Ah, so yer the sniping one, eh?"

I blinked, pivoting so my magnum wasn't visible and I eased it out of its holster, holding it by my side. Who the hell was this guy?

"Name's Whitaker," He greeted, holding out a hand. I scowled, and he retracted it, but his lazy grin didn't change, "I can't help but recognize ya as the little kiddie that stole that purdy little gun on yer back."

"What's it to you?" My soft accent breached the air, something I wanted to frown at, but resisted. I always sounded like such a wuss with it, since it made me sound all proper. And my voice is soft enough as it is.

"Well I happen ta own this lil shop here, missy," He leveled me with a stern look, "And seein' as I don' need none'a that paper crap anymore...you owe me a favor."

My frown turned to a malicious scowl, marring my features and making me most likely look like an evil being. Whitaker didn't bat an eyelash.

"Now I jus' got me my cola...but maybe you can get another item of desire for me," He twirled his pistol around on his finger, leaving him carelessly unprotected, vulnerable. Keep on talking…

"It happens to be in that mall. Right there," He pointed to my next destination, same place where the four survivors were going. I tensed, lips pursed into a thin line, "And it's on the second floor—"

"I don't owe you anything."

Whitaker's grin slipped off his face, "You stole from _my_ store, so yes you do."

"Whether it is or it is not your store is irrelevant," I said, lifting my chin, "It's the apocalypse, old man. You get used to disappointment."

He sighed, "Don' make me shoot ya, girl."

My eye twitched, just slightly so it wasn't noticed by him. I was pretty good at suppressing it.

 _Wait… no sis, don't, don't you dare—_

 _Sis this isn't worth it, don't! M—_

BAM!

Cassiopeia and Vega fell silent, and I felt nothing as I watched the wisps of smoke ebb away from the magnum, and I saw nothing in front of me. Just silence. Just peace.

The world turned grey, washed away until there was no ground, no sky, no walls. I just stood on grey, looked around at grey. I waited for the illusions, kept my magnum raised.

Cassiopeia came first. She was crying.

"W-Why?! Why would you do that?!"

"Because he tried to take advantage of me. Steal from me. Use something barely qualified as worthy of a favor. Tried to hold me to a task that I had no desire or need to complete."

"That was...that was _bad_ ," Vega appeared to the right of Cassi, eyes wide as she looked at me with something akin to terror in her eyes, "You're spiraling."

"I'm fine."

" _No you're not_!"

"Cassi. Stop. You're wasting your breath on a nonexistent problem," I said this so painfully calm, so tranquil. I small part of me screamed at me, yelling. I squashed it like a bug underneath the heel of my boot.

"I just want you to be good again," Cassi whimpered, dropping to the ground, hands cradling her face as her flowy skirt fluttered to land on her knees. I wanted to hug her, to wipe the tears away.

"I'm me. Isn't that enough?"

"No," Vega cut through, eyes sad, "You're not you. You need to find yourself to be you. And being you automatically makes you good again."

I furrowed my brows, "How can I find me when I'm already here?"

Cassi sniffled, both of the illusions flickering as she said, "You don't know that you're gone until you find yourself again."

And just like that, they rippled away, like if I dropped a pebble in a calm pond and the waves would distort my reflection. They were morphed, and then they were gone.

The world didn't zoom back this time, but it's like the colors bled around me, scurrying to their rightful places. All the blues up there, the greens over there, shades of red everywhere.

And then the colors came to Whitaker, the shapes making him _him_ again. I cocked my head. A perfect hole, right in the middle of his forehead. His eyes were still open, face still lax, unexpecting of his doom. He didn't even know who I was, what my name was. And now, poof. Just like that, he was gone.

So easy.

I ignored the pretty blood trickling down his face, ignored how the pistol had fallen from his fingers and clattered to the ground below. He was slumped on the windowsill, am arm being used as a pillow for his head. His hat fell off, revealing a balding head.

Ignore it.

I stepped into his sanctuary, seeing lots of guns and heavy artillery, magazines and power units. He even had the AC running. Every blanket under the moon must've been crammed into the corner, soft to the touch.

What a materialistic asshole.

I meandered over to his food supply, stuffing a couple cans of soup into my bag, roaming over the amount of room I had left inside. I didn't have much beyond a few chocolate bars inside, all my ammo in the pouches of my belt and the divots of my strap. I even had a small knife in my boot.

Then, my gaze flicked upward, my mouth watering. _Fruit_.

Delicious, shining apples sat innocently in a basket, and I rushed over, stopping myself from shoving them all in recklessly. First, I grabbed the water bottles beside them, cold to the touch, and stuffed them in the very bottom of my pack. I kept one in the side pocket, guzzling down a quarter of it. What made me grin was the fact that my pack was insulated, so the cold would stay in. Kinda like a transportable fridge.

Then, carefully, I placed as many apples as I could into my pack. I was silently glad it was a military pack, considering the amount of space and pockets it had gave me a lot of room to stock up on food. Of course, the front pocket held a lady's essentials.

I managed to fit a little over a dozen in, grinning in triumph over my victory, before seeing one of those little sack things that you slung over your shoulder. I could probably carry that too…

The sack was a sickening medical white, but I could deal. I slung it over my shoulder, the opposite one holding the strap, and poured the rest of the apples into the opening, seeing the healthy red blink up at me. Awesome.

I spied a black blanket with cute little roses scattered on it, still wrapped in its packaging. Well, I didn't exactly have a sleeping bag…

Snatching the bundled blanket, I ran my hand along the softness of it before clipping it to the bottom of my backpack via the Velcro straps. Hefting all my newfound supplies up, I tested the weight, satisfied that I could carry it without much difficulty.

I turned, taking in the corpse of Whitaker again. Cocking my head slightly, I felt a twinge of something in the very pit of my stomach. I...I almost felt bad for killing the guy.

But he was going to steal from me. He was bad. I shouldn't be.

Gritting my teeth at the betrayed emotion, I stomped outside, making it a point to jostle the corpse as I stepped back out into the hot Georgia sun. A huff of breath escaped me as I suddenly glanced down at the street.

Now I have to climb down. Let's see if I can do this injury free.

* * *

 **So...I guess you can guess why I explained her mental state in the beginning, huh?**

 **Originally, that wasn't going to happen, but once I got into a groove it just kinda happened...well, what's done is done. No hard feelings, right Whitaker?**

 **Whitaker: I just wanted some damn cola...**

 **Uh...sorry. See you all next week!**


End file.
